


The Bear Who Told Stories

by starwenn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Animal Fable, Gen, In Memory of Carrie Fisher, In honor of hers and Debbie Reynolds' passing, Inspired by life of Carrie Fisher, My way of dealing with grief, Other, Writing therapy, folktale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9186860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwenn/pseuds/starwenn
Summary: There once was a bear who didn't think she was special...but it turns out she was far more special and talented than she could have ever imagined.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do something to honor Carrie Fisher, a fellow writer, after her death, and then Debbie Reynolds, too. I've seen many fanfics about Princess Leia dying, and while they've all been heartfelt and wonderful, I just...can't bring myself to do that yet. I considered doing her death in the universe for my Star Wars 40's stories The Resistance Kids, even got as far as writing story notes for it, but I want that to be a lighthearted comedy series. This was just too sad, too...real. I may eventually do it as a Rey/Luke Skywalker short story, but right now, it hurts too much. 
> 
> But thinking about Fisher's relationship with her family, her friends, with Harrison Ford, and the love of writing and telling stories that I can certainly relate to, lead me to create this tale. I've written many a fairy tale, but I've never tried a fable or folk tale before...but I love bears as much as I do writing, Star Wars, and musicals. 
> 
> So ladies, wherever you are, this is for you. I'll be the one searching the sky for the falcon and the two brightest stars.

Once upon a time, in the wilds of the western mountains, a brown bear cub was born. She was no ordinary cub. Her parents had once been circus bears, but when the circus shut down, they'd fled into the wilderness together to raise a family. The mama bear danced, and the papa bear sang. When the cub became old enough, they taught her these things. She loved doing them, but she felt she'd never be as good as her parents.

“When will I find something that's special for me?” she asked her mama one night, when they were looking out at the stars.

“Someday, my cub,” her mother assured her. “You're still young. You have all the time in the world.”

As the cub grew up, she learned all the things little bears needed to know to survive...including dealing with siblings, for her parents had a second cub, a boy, the next year. She learned to how to find food, how to fight off interlopers, how to avoid hunters and their guns, and how to tumble and play with her brother. 

Nothing gave her more joy than hearing stories. Every animal she met in the wildlife park where she grew up had a story to tell. Her parents told her about their lives in the circus, about the long hours they'd have to work to train, but also about applause and the lights and the color and glitter. Owls spoke of flying at night and just managing to snatch a mouse before it reached its hole. Deer told her about the forests they'd migrated to and about their narrow escapes from guns and forest fires. Rabbits revealed how they found sweet clover in the summer and hid among the snow in the winter. 

She loved hearing stories, but she wondered when she'd have a story of her own. “You'll need to go out into the wide world and find it,” her mother finally told her. She was old enough to be on her own now, no longer needing her mother's protection. Her father had left years ago; her brother was almost ready to leave.

And so, the bear left home. She headed towards the mountain, where she first encountered a very handsome mountain lion with a very fluffy coat. He was proud of that coat, too proud for her liking. She got tired of his ego and left, his praise of himself ringing in her ears. 

“Surely,” she said to herself, “I can find better stories than that!”

As she headed back down the mountain, she realized how clear the stars looked from here. The sky was filled with nothing but stars. “What are stars, Mama?” she'd once asked the dancing bear, many years before. “Why are they in the sky? Why don't they come down to see us?”

“Stars,” her mother explained, “are the spirits of animals after we've passed on. Every star is a little different, just like every animal is a little different. Some shine brightly, while others would rather twinkle quietly in a corner of twilight. They comfort those of us who are still walking on the land.” 

“I want to shine brightly when I pass on,” said the bear. “I want to shine so brightly, I'll be the first thing people see when they look up in the sky.” She turned to her mother. “And you'll shine brightly, too. Everyone should see us!”

“I hope so, dear.” She nuzzled her daughter. “I hope so.”

The bear thought of this conversation as she looked at the stars. She wondered what stories the star spirits had to tell. She wished she could read every twinkle and winkle. “I wish I knew what my story was,” she said. “I wish I had a story to tell the stars.” 

“I have a story about stars.” The bear was startled. She turned around to find herself face-to-face with a buffalo, a young fellow with a great shaggy beard and round, thoughtful brown eyes. “I have a story, but I need help telling it. I heard you're good at telling stories. Would you help me?”

“I'll try,” said the bear. “I don't know if I'll be any good, but I'll try.”

The buffalo lead her down the mountain, to a clearing in a forest in the valley. She was surprised to see other animals there, all chattering and hoping. She'd never seen so many kinds of animals! A lean yellow warbler and a fat little blue bird were just starting to awaken to the dawn. The largest, shaggiest moose the bear had ever seen grazed at the edge of the clearing. A lone brown prairie falcon soared overhead. 

Two deer were the last creatures to arrive, just as the first rays of the sun began to filter through the tree tops. The smaller deer with the sandy fur was obviously the younger of the two. His antlers were two little stumps, and he frisked and laughed and leaped over logs. His companion was much older. He had wide, proud antlers, a slow, dignified gait, and a soft fawn-brown nose raised high into the air.

“This is ridiculous,” the elder deer scoffed. “Stories about stars! What kind of stories can you tell about stars?”

“I like stars!They're so pretty in the night sky.” The deer leaped around his friend. “I'll bet you can tell lots of stories!”

The buffalo told them his stories. He told them there were many spirits in the stars, and they all had tales to tell. There were the tales of his ancestors, the great buffalo who had roamed the plains and protected the animals, until the humans and their noise sticks wiped them out. He mentioned a female bear chief who had been the strongest, bravest warrior ever in the west. She was so brave, she had rescued her grizzly mate from a whole pack of poachers, even managing to kill the head of them with one blow. He spoke of the deer whose father, an aggressive old buck all the other horned animals feared, died saving him from the nasty mountain lion who roamed the cliffs.

“Your ideas are wonderful,” the bear began, “but your words aren't. They're awkward and don't fit the characters.”

“Yeah,” added the falcon in his long drawl. “Nobody uses all that high falutin' talk you have them sayin'.”

The buffalo nodded. “I know, Falcon. You've told stories for me before. Will you help me tell them again?” He turned to the others. “Will you all help me? Help me tell my stories. I want every animal in the western mountains to hear these tales!”

One by one, they all agreed, even the skeptical old buck. The deer leaped up in delight. “Hurrah! I'll be telling stories!” He jumped...and tripped over a root in his path. His long, slender legs went sprawling.

The falcon pulled him back up with his talons. “You all right, kid?”

“I'm always all right!” He laughed again. “Thank you, Mr. Falcon!”

“Just Falcon, kid,” he said gruffly. He took off after that, soaring towards a nest on a cliff on the edge of the forest. 

“He's so beautiful,” the bear said in awe. “I've never seen a bird like him.”

“Oh, he's been around.” The deer frolicked alongside her. “He builds nests for other birds, when he's not telling stories. He's good at it. He made a nice nest for his mate and fledglings.” The deer stuck his nose into the nearest tree. “I always wondered how birds could live in trees and on cliffs. Don't they fall out? Give me some nice soft moss anytime.”

As the animals began to help the buffalo with his stories, the bear fell in love with the idea of telling tales. She knew what words to say and which ones worked in the story, could find a better word when the original didn't sound right, and wasn't afraid to tell the others when the parts of the story didn't fit together. Sometimes the animals called her bossy or rude, but they mostly praised her contributions, saying they made the story even better. 

The falcon was almost as good of a storyteller as she was. He too knew which words worked and which didn't, and would figure out how to make them sound right for the character. The bear had never known anyone like him. He wasn't a talker, like the always-chattering deer and songbirds. It was rare he spoke at all, but when he did, he had a marvelous, gravely squawk that made the others sit up and notice. He was so handsome and smart, the bear thought he could have been in the circus, doing tricks like her parents did. 

She had wanted to get to know him better, but he mostly kept to himself...until one day about a month after they started making stories. She was out walking in the woods when she heard a strange sound, one she'd only heard a few times before. It was footsteps...but heavy footsteps, one much larger than her own. Strange voices, ones that didn't growl or squawk, filled her ears. 

She had just enough time to turn around before she saw the barrel of the long noisy black stick...and it was pointed straight at her! She took off as fast as she could, just barely missing the killing noise that cracked across the woods. The poor frightened bear dashed for the safety of a thicket of trees, only to see two more humans with noise sticks there. They smirked and wigged their fingers at her, like they were trying to get her to come near. She knew better than that. She could smell strange substances on them, sweet, acidic scents. She only smelled it once before, when she found broken bottles in the woods with sticky purple drops on them. 

Even though she was terrified, she was angry, too. How dare they think she was that stupid? She wanted to reach out and smack those humans. 

She never had the chance. The falcon swooped in from the sky and landed right on those humans' heads! He scratched and bit at them, making them yell and drop their sticks. “Come on!” he yelled after he'd bitten the nose of the larger of the two. The bird actually pushed at her with his wings. “Go, go!” They flew and sprinted out of the forest and up to the mountain, until they found a cave where they could hide.

“You know,” she said, out of breath, “that was brave of you, but I could have taken them myself. I'm a big bear, after all.”

“Yeah, Chief,” the falcon hissed, “and there were two noise sticks right in your face. If it wasn't for me, you'd have pieces of the killing noise in your backside right now!”

The bear reached out to cuff him, but the falcon did something she didn't expect. He pecked her. It was a light peck, more like a nuzzle her parents would give her. “Wha...” she rubbed her cheek. “What was that?”

“Why do you think I helped you?” The falcon's lazy grin spread from one side of his beak to the other. “You've got guts, bear. You're all right. We birds peck the ones we like.” He flew alongside her. “Mind if I fly home with you? Your cave isn't far from my nest on the cliff.”

Now she was the one with the grin. “I wouldn't mind at all.”

After that, they were inseparable, the bear and the falcon. He told her stories about flying in the sky, close to the sun and the moon and the stars. He told her how it felt to build, to create a nest a fellow creature could live in with his own beak. She told him about her circus parents and learning to dance and sing and about her encounter with the fluffy mountain lion.

The bear tried to fly a few times, but...whumph! She always landed in a heap on the soft ground. “Sorry Chief,” said the falcon, “but you ain't built for flying.”

Sometimes, the deer joined them as well. There was much laughter as the trio frolicked among the trees, laughing, running, flying, jumping, playing. The deer had lived in many different forests. His family was always on the move, migrating from place to place. He loved mimicking other animals and birds. He got very good at mimicking his two friends, especially the falcon's gruff squawks. The bear tried to imitate them, but it just made her throat hurt. 

They told many stories, passing them on to other animals. The creatures of the forest loved the simple folk tales of the good animals who triumphed over the evil predators and humans who tried to take their homes. Those animals passed them on, and their families passed them, and they passed them to their children. 

By the time the bear was fully-grown, the stories were now considered legends. Little girl cubs talked about being like the brave female bear chief who saved the grizzly scavenger and won his heart. Boy calves talked about becoming a great warrior, like the buffaloes who fought for the rights of all animals against the humans who wanted their land. Birds chirped about the helpfulness of the fussy warbler and the sassy bluebird. Moose and deer spoke of the grizzly's loyal companion. Even insects whispered of the slug who ruled the underground and the green lizard who could take down any prey, even the grizzly bear. 

The bear and the deer loved that the stories had become so popular. “I wish I was a real chief,” the bear said. “Maybe I'd know what I want to do then.”

“I think you should keep telling stories.” The falcon soared next to her, as usual. They'd just finished passing on their latest stories, about how the bears, deer, and buffalo had destroyed the cave belonging to the notorious mountain lion. “You're good at it, and it's obvious that you enjoy it.”

“I don't know.” The bear sighed. “I like it because it lets me get out my feelings. But is it really special, like my parents being able to dance and sing?”

“I think you're the most special creature in the whole woods.” The falcon gently scratched her shoulder with his talons. “You have the eyes of a doe and the balls of an angry buffalo. You could do anything you set your mind to, if you wanted to enough. Just because it isn't something they have in the circus doesn't mean it's not special.”

“I wish you could stay with me.” The bear turned her doe eyes towards him. “I'm glad we're friends, but...I wish it could be more.”

“Chief, I understand how you feel.” He patted her shoulder with his wing. “But I have to get back to my family. And anyway...well, there's the obvious.” He ran his feathers over her fur. “We're different species. I can't be your mate.” He gave her that lazy grin again. “But I can still be your friend.” 

The bear wished that didn't mean so much...but it did. When at last, the stories had all been told, the Falcon went back to his nest, and the moose and the deer and the birds went back to their homes in the woods. She was alone again.

She'd learned two things while telling those stories. First, she was in love with stories, with words. She wanted to tell stories, at least until she could find something really special to do. Second, she did not like to be alone. She wanted to have fun, to laugh and romp with other animals. 

The bear continued to seek out other creatures who enjoyed being in packs the way she did. On the way, she had many adventures. Once, she had hope to mate with a fat black bear who showed her how to get into picnic baskets and other human foods. She'd never tasted such delectable, rich food in her life! But the black bear soon got into trouble, and he spurned her. She didn't like that at all! She shook an oak tree, sending nuts raining down so hard, he thought they were the killing noise and ran away.

She passed through a pretty prairie valley, nestled alongside a misty mountain. She looked up and saw an eagle circling the cliffs. “Why are you circling that way? You're acting more like a vulture than an eagle.”

“I'm afraid of those cliffs,” he squawked. “I'm afraid predators live there. A hawk who was a good friend of mine swears he saw a family of mountain lions prowling around. What if they come into the valley?”

She laughed. “That's silly. There are no mountain lions there. There haven't been any mountain lions in this area for years. Your imagination is working overtime.”

She left to clean her cave and catch some fish for her dinner. When she came back a few days later, she found a mess of feathers and fur. Birds were surrounding a whole pride of mountain lions, scratching and hissing. The mountain lions fought them off, but the birds dropped acorns and pinecones on their heads. 

Her mouth opened, but for once, she didn't know what to say. “See?” squawked the Eagle. “I told you were were predators! My friends the hawks and eagles and me sort of, uh, accidentally drove them out. But we got rid of them!” All she could do was shake her head.

Shortly after, she encouraged two bears she knew to fall in love. They were just friends, but she knew they'd be perfect. It took a while, but they eventually mated and had a family.

The bear finally returned to her family's cave. Her brother had gone off on his own. Her mother the dancing bear was all alone now, her mate having left years before. She stayed with her mother for a while, and the two told stories to each other. Her mother even started dancing again. 

“That's how I tell stories, dear,” she'd tell her daughter when she would scold her about getting too tired after her dances. “I tell them with my paws.”

She was reluctant to leave home, but it was time she found herself a mate. As it turned out, she wasn't very good at it. One bear charmed her with his songs, but they fought and cuffed each other too often and parted. She remained with another long enough to have a bright little cinnamon-gold cub, and adorable fuzzy thing with big dark eyes like her mother. Her father left, too, but the bear kept her cub.

It didn't help that the bear sometimes ate and drank things, especially human foods, that weren't really good for her. Once, group of humans with the flashing light boxes found her moaning after eating the entire contents of what she thought was a barrel-shaped tree. They called for medical assistance, and she was taken away to a strange, box-shaped cave. She remembered very little about what happened afterwards, other than a week later, she was released back into the wild, with the admonishment to stay away from trash cans and other foods that weren't for bears. 

She now tried not to eat as much human food. She had a cub to raise, and a mother to keep an eye on. But most of all, she had more stories to tell. Even when other animals said she was crazy, that her mind didn't quite work like everyone else's, she shrugged and said “So I'm crazy. I still have my stories, and a family who love me.” Indeed, many animals came out to hear her stories, and passed them on.

The bear was getting older now, no longer in the prime of her life. Her mother moved slower these days, but she still danced. The little cinnamon-gold cub grew up to be a pretty little bear in her own right. She shared her mother's love of telling stories. “I like telling spooky ones,” she explained, “ones about scary spirits and dark shadows that make all the babies shiver.” They even had an animal companion, a dog that had been abandoned by humans, who was their constant companion and helped them with all things.

No one in the western woods had ever forgotten the stories about the spirits in the stars. “We want more!” they cried. The buffalo who had first come to them with the stories was no longer young. He no longer told stories. He did encourage others to tell them, to pass on the stories he'd told. He asked the bear to come back. He wanted her stories now, needed her storytelling skills. Besides, many animals loved her wild tales of her adventures.

There was a new gathering of animals in the clearing. Some had gone to the sky since she'd last been there. The yellow warbler looked sad and even leaner without the blue bird by his side. The old moose walked slower, but he was as gentle and loyal as ever. The elderly buck was long gone, his council missed. 

There were new animals, younger ones. She laughed as a black river otter waddled over, trying to catch a condor who had flown in from South America. A slender black wolf with thick, dark fur watched the group out of glittering eyes. He was followed by a slender, cunning red fox and an antelope with long, long legs. Her daughter giggled and chased them, delighted to have animals her own age to play with.

The group parted as a wise old buck walked across the moss. He was followed by a little doe, small and delicate, but with large eyes that had seen much. The buck had the most magnificent set of antlers the bear had ever seen. They were so wide and tall, they seemed to touch the sky. 

“Hello, bear,” he said, a familiar playful grin spreading across his muzzle. “I'm so glad to see you again!”

“Brother deer!” She couldn't help it. She gave him a bear hug. “It's you! You're here!” 

He nodded. “I'm here, sister bear.” The doe nudged him. “And I brought my new pupil. She's learning to show other animals how to laugh, too.”

The doe leaped into the air. “I'm so excited! I've always wanted to hear your stories!” She misjudged her landing and ended up flat on the grass. The otter and condor helped her to her feet. “This is much nicer than the dry grasslands I'm from. They have rain here, and green things.” 

“The stories have been passed very far,” the condor explained. “I heard them all the way in South America and wanted to tell them myself.”

“We hear them in the river too,” the otter added. 

“And in the distant woods,” said the quiet wolf.

The bear's brown eyes had already turned to the sky. “Deer, is he...will he come?”

A squawk revealed her answer. A brown prairie falcon, wings now slightly ragged and crooked with age, soared down from the sky. He landed on her back, scratching it gently with his talons. “Hi there, Chief. Did you miss me?”

“I did miss you.” She nuzzled him with her nose, then gave him a small, playful slap. “That's how we bears say 'I like you.'” Her big warm eyes sparkled merrily. “You still drive me crazy.”

He rubbed his cheek with his wings and gave her his famous smirk. “I know.”

It seemed that there were even more stories of the spirits in the stars to pass along. For the deer had a doe, a doe who was lost when humans tried to steal her away. She was found again by a gentle otter, who would rather help animals than hurt fish, and the old grizzly and his moose friend. The female bear chief was terribly sad because her cub had decided to help drive away other animals, rather than share the territory. The little doe finally found the wise deer who had once been saved by his father, hoping that he would help her become a great female deer warrior. 

“That's all?” said the cinnamon bear in disappointment when it was done. “What happens next?”

“Oh, we have plenty of time to decide that,” said the bear. “There's still so many stories to tell!”

But there was one story she'd never told anyone. She finally started revealing how close she and the falcon were to each other. It had been so long ago, she decided, it wouldn't hurt anyone if they knew. The falcon joked about needing large owls who knew human laws to stop her...but he didn't try to stop her. No one could stop the bear when she wanted to do something. 

“I don't think it was a good idea,” she admitted to the falcon a few weeks after she'd passed on the news. “Some of them got very angry at me. They said I seduced you! Me, a crazy little bear, seduced a handsome falcon, not only a falcon with fledglings, but someone who wasn't even a bear.” 

The falcon gave her a peck. “Don't listen to them, Chief. It doesn't matter what we did in the past. The future matters now. We both have more stories to tell.”

“That's right, sister bear,” the buck added. “Everyone's talking about the new stories. They want to find out if the doe will avenge the death of the grizzly, or if she ever learned to be a warrior, or if she avoided that mean wolf.” He grinned. “They might even want to hear about us old-timers.”

The bear cuffed him playfully. “Who's old?”

The falcon scratched her back. “You still looking for that something special?”

“I haven't been, lately.” Her head turned to the stars. “I've been too busy telling stories, and taking care of Mother and my daughter. But I'll find it. I'll find my way to shine yet. I still have time. ”

But she didn't have time.

Just a year after her chat with the falcon and the buck, while on a routine trip back to her cave from telling stories, she felt a pain in her chest. The pain grew and inflamed, until it became unendurable, and she collapsed. Other bears gathered around her, trying to help her breathe, but it did no good. She couldn't breathe, or even move.

“Please,” she gasped, gazing up at the stars as she found her voice, “please, let me shine. Let my stories shine.”

Those words were her last. She died, surrounded by her brother and her wailing child and the mother bear and the little dog who lived with them. They were all heart broken, but none more than the mother. 

“Stars,” she shouted, dancing on her hind legs one last time, “please let me be with my cub. Don't take her away from me!”

She too, finally became a spirit, dying shortly after her daughter. The little cinnamon-gold bear and the brother bear sobbed and sobbed. 

It was the buck who came to her after her mother died. “I miss Mama and Grandmama,” the little bear sobbed. “I want them to be here! I want them to still tell stories! This isn't fair. Why did they have to go away? Mr. Buck, why did they leave?”

“They haven't left us,” the buck said softy. He nodded his long antlers at the night sky. “There they are! They're still with us.”

The moment the cinnamon bear gazed upwards, the clouds passed, and she saw two beautiful stars. They weren't just any stars. They were the largest, brightest stars she'd ever seen in her life. They lit up the entire night sky, one right next to the other. 

“There's your mother,” the buck explained, “and your grandmother. I wish they could still be with us, too. I know this must be especially hard for you. They were your world. But you can look up at the night sky, and know they're shining down, dancing and laughing and telling stories, and they always will be.”

The cinnamon bear smiled a little through her tears. “And we have their stories. I'll always pass them on. I'll never forget Mama and Grandmama's stories.”

“That's right.” The buck nudged her kindly. “As long as we have stories, the spirits of our loved ones never really leave us.”

As the two gazed into the night sky, the cinnamon bear thought she saw the silhouette of a falcon, it's ragged wings spread wide as it soared as close to the two stars as it dared. The falcon's mournful squawk was joined by the deer's soft cry, the cinnamon bear's small growl, and the keening howl of the little dog. 

So if you look into the night sky tonight, my children, look for the two brightest stars. You're more than likely to see a falcon soaring as close as he can, forever searching for the spirits of the dancing bear, and his beloved chief bear, who never shown brighter than when she was allowing her stories to shine for others.

**The End**


End file.
